Death, She Cried
by Blanche Flower
Summary: DH SPOILERS! What would happen if the Devil's most devoted advocate survives the curse that Molly Weasley had struck her down with?


**I DO NOT OWN THE FANDOM KNOWN AS HARRY POTTER, NOR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS!**

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**My life has ended tonight but I have been reborn**

**AN: **_This is was written for a RPG I've joined, called Conscendo. The link should be in my Profile if you want to check it out. I'll probably post other snippets here as well, so until then this is considered complete. No comments on my grammar, most of it was done on purpose.  
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"You— will – never -- touch – our – children – again!"

Bellatrix's laughter died, her smile wavering and frozen as the curse struck her hard on the chest, directly above her heart. Everything darkened, tipping backwards and vaguely she realized that her own body was falling to the floor.

Time sped up, the numb oddity that clung to her body faded as a burst of pain exploded through her entire person with such intensity that the dark haired woman couldn't even utter a single noise of misery. Someone screamed, voice filled with fury and idly she noted that it was her beloved master.

Her vision was nothing but a blur of flickering shadows. Dark eyes remained opened wide, glazed and dull as if claimed by death itself. Her strength had been sapped; her body ached, and as a clever but unhinged mind struggled against the magic holding her stationary…

Bellatrix LeStrange wondered if the Weasley matriarch had full knowledge of what spell she truly used.

Fighting continued, the conversation between her Master and the Potter brat dimly making it through her scrambled mind as pain continued to plague her.

She knew—oh she certainly knew the instant the Dark Lord's last breath escaped his chest! Molly's curse had worn off, but Bellatrix was too weak to move and now more pain clawed at her. Soul-searing pain as the connection between her Dark Mark and the Dark Lord—her precious, beloved Master—snapped, making Bella gurgle on her own superfluous saliva.

A sob welled up in her chest but had nowhere to escape, death pulling at her conscious and a deep breath whistled through her teeth, dark eyes becoming moist and willingly giving into the darkness that had claimed her so many years ago.

Everything was moving, her stomach lurching and suddenly she was placed on the ground. Grass tickled her skin, and dark eyes shot open as heavy footsteps retreated. Her wand had been placed on her chest, arms crossed peacefully over it in a serene arrangement.

Placed adjacent to her was a Death Eater whose dull eyes stared heavenward. Swallowing dryly, she did not move and remained limp. Closing her eyes, watching from underneath her eyelashes Bellatrix observed as the enemy placed the dead corpses outside, neatly aligned and continuing in rows of ten.

Eventually Bellatrix's body gave out and she drifted asleep. Hours later she woke, startled by voices. Subtly observing, she realized that they were beginning to haul bodies away in order to be identified and buried. She had been amongst the first few to be placed outside and…

Deciding to risk it…

No…

Yes…Yes! A dark head tilted back, eyes rolling up…

The forest wasn't too far off…

She could make a run for it…

_'Go for it,'_ a familiar voice hissed, playing upon her curious thoughts. _'Continue what I…what we have began. Run…run and hide, bid your time and plan carefully. Learn from mistakes of the past…'_

Body tensing, dark eyes screwed tightly shut…a pale hand grasped her wand, warmth flooding her fingertips and renewing her strength, battling against fatigue.

Bellatrix jerked her body upwards, gritting her teeth against the pain that raced through her muscles, across her chest, and playing with frayed nerves. Someone gave a startled cry but the lithe woman was already dashing towards the forest, long legs quickly carrying her across the sloping lawn.

No stopping, no pauses, she must go on. Run! Run! Pain was her friend. It never lied; it never whispered sweet lies into her ear. It wasn't deceiving like pleasure was where true intentions were hidden beneath lusty glances and gentle caresses, warmth breath ghosting across pale skin…

Wand slashing, curses roaring as Bella carved her way through the small branches of bushes as she escaped to the first section of the forbidden forest she could reach. Darting through tree trunks, adrenaline rushing through her veins despite protesting muscles, she continued on her mad race forward until the gift of apparation was once again upon her.

CRACK

Malfoy gates.

Up path.

Through corridors.

Heart racing.

**Thump thump.**

_Wards_, the voice hissed.

A door shattered, the wards imploding upon itself. Bella ignored the shards of wood that embedded into her skin, tears of blood pouring down her cheeks.

Yes! She knew this room, having spent numerous hours at the beck and call of her master, writhing in pleasure and pain…pain and pleasure…pleasure and pain…

There was no difference…Only one lied and the other tore screams from one's throat.

_Leaning against his leg as he worked at his desk, caressing the alabaster skin beneath his robe…_

Sitting at his feet…

Curling into his side after a night of sleepless activities until he booted her out…

More memories flashed through her mind, fragments—taunting, taunting, screaming at her, and unraveling what little sanity she could claim. Anger roared, rushing through her mind to continue on through her veins as Bella's blood seemed to boil.

Scream…

The room seemed to vibrate with her anger, echo with her pain, their sad grey stone walls reflecting her anguish as Bellatrix screamed herself raw, hands clawing at her face as she collapsed to the ground with painful sobs building in her chest.

Calm.

Unsettling calm swallowed her, pushing away the anger, sadness, and drowning grief. Bellatrix did not cry out as she got to her feet, body trembling with effort. There was no time to waste; Aurors would arrive soon enough to search Malfoy Manor.

Rushing towards the bed, she pulled out a heavy trunk from underneath. Here…here was where the Dark Lord kept _everything_ of importance where one would least expect it.

Books, notes, spare wands, devices—everything…always ready to move if required. Beyond that, he had not trust Lucius enough to leave anything lying about, open to prying eyes.

Panting with effort, her joints popped as she got to her feet once more. Desk. On the opposite side of the room. It was clear.

Pulling open the drawers, there were more notes— letters, quills, half written instructions and ink wells. Nothing of importance. Her heart seemed to flutter, painfully constricting as dark eyes gazed upon painstakingly small, but neat handwriting of her Master.

On the bed…a book, carefully bookmarked. Bellatrix carefully clutched it to her chest and shrunk the trunk. Bellatrix tucked it into her boot next to few knives she had placed there before the battle.

Straightening, wincing as every fiber of her being protest, a hoarse voice called out: "Winney."

Bellatrix was startled by her own pain ridden croak, closing her eyes momentarily as she swayed on her feet.

"Miss Bella! How is Winney to be serving yous?"

Dark eyes opened. "You're now my elf. Master is dead, and as his mistress I claim you as my own." A deep rattling breath issued from her chest, a pale face turning pasty as the black haired woman attempted to stay standing.

More like the Dark Lord's whore.

"If I ask you for anything, you will withdraw currency from the Lestrange account in Russia." When both she and Rodolphus had joined her Master, they had known the full risk and transferred three quarters of their account to a different branch of Gringotts. Both Germany and Russia were two countries that considered Dark Arts legal…

Russia.

That's where she would go to recover, regroup, and rebuild. Learn from mistakes of the past…

Swallowing and stumbling a little, the world went momentarily fuzzy.

"Collect my possessions—bring me my trunk."

Paint the sky red, bathing in the blood of thy enemies and gleefully enjoy their pain. Make the world tremble, start new…new…new…

No more mistakes.

They will pay.

Everyone will pay.

Death was her greatest pleasure and she welcomed it to her bed like a well missed lover. No, Bellatrix was not afraid of death which made her ever more dangerous.

Logic. Now that's something she needed to cling to.

Anger. Her tool.

Pain. Best friend.

It would continue, this game. This war. But first?

Recovery.

Her legs collapsed underneath herself, and Bella found her world whirling as she stared up at the ceiling. A hysterical laugh bubbled in her chest, bursting from her lips but Bella couldn't bring herself to care.

Winney the house-elf cautiously approached her, shying away as Bellatrix flailed her arms and curled up on the ground, body heaving with laughter and tears pouring down her face. Her earlier sobs had been closer to dry heaves, but now she was balling like a baby.

She had not cried since she was a child.

Unable to calm down, she hiccuped pathetically. _Russia, for now._


End file.
